
When we lived in New York, one of the worst times we had there,
believe it or not, was when the Giants beat the Pats in the superbowl.
I know it's just football, but it made it very clear to us that we
were outsiders, and motivated our return to New England.
Well, last night was kind of like that, but way worse.
For election night I was assigned to the Yes On 1 Campaign. They were
waiting out election results at the Eastland hotel, which is right
near the station. First off, I wasn't thrilled to be given that
assignment. Originally I was told I would be at No On 1, and I was
psyched. But somehow it got switched, so I was faced with my first big
test of journalistic neutrality. Not that I really consider myself a
journalist. But I accepted the challenge, not seeing another choice,
though thinking about it now, maybe I should have just refused
altogether. Because I don't feel good at all about how well I was able
to mask my true feelings, or how good a job I did getting interviews
first, working the room or supporting my talent. I just feel sick.
All the people in that Yes On 1 room were wrong. Many of them were
pretty creepy. But some of them weren't, which was perhaps harder to
deal with. Some of them were good people, who had built up a
philosophy about what they were doing that made perfect sense when you
listened to it, but at the end of the day was just cleverly packaged
bigotry. I wanted to talk to them for real, try to give them a new
perspective, but in my fabulous role as field producer I couldn't. Not
that I think I could have changed any minds, but probably anything
would have felt better than what I was doing.
Which was talking to them, listening to them talk, tracking down the
people who had something to say on camera and just walking around the
room, getting a sense of the mood, who people were and what was
happening. As the night progressed, that got more and more disturbing
as the numbers continued to go in their favor.
And then as a final treat, I had to sit there and watch them win,
keeping a blank expression on my face. The worst part was the
smugness, the little dances of glee, the cheers and subtle digs at the
other side. (read:"gay side"). Or maybe the worst was when one of the
Campaign Managers got up and said they were doing this for the
children, who need BOTH a Mommy AND a Daddy. "This is about Mommies
and Daddies, and what's right," he said. Yah, that was probably the
worst moment.
It went late, since results were still tight even after a midnight
hit, but I was mercifully able to leave early and so I just came home
and cried. Because most of all, I'm sad that we lost. I'm sad for
Maine and I'm sad for my daughter.
I'm sad and I feel like I failed. Because this IS about the children,
about my children, my sweet little hope and change baby who I brought
into this world, with all the best intentions and promises in my
heart. Who should be able to grow up and be loved, whoever she is, and
be able to love whoever she wants. And have that love be equal to any
other love.
After I finished my sad sack routine, Matt said, "let's go up and look
at her." and we did, and she opened her eyes and smiled. And we both
told her that we'd keep doing everything we could to try to make the
world a good place for her, no matter who she wants to be when she
grows up. That we loved her and we'd support her because she's our
perfect, smart wonderful princess.
And she said "Gah!"